


captive (x2)

by Sonny



Series: WORD : GAMES [4]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-10
Updated: 2007-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:40:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny





	captive (x2)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

**WORD is... : CAPTIVE**

(became **The Secret Life of Brian Kinney** ) 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

 

**Response for BRIAN :**

 

The client hadn't lifted his eyes once from the open file and stock booklet he had been given ten minutes ago. It didn't seem like he was ever going to grace the man talking with an inkling of an interested stare--or even a mere glare of displeasure. 

" _Hey!_ " 

"Huh?" Brian turned to look down at the dainty, well-manicured hand on his forearm. The way the feminine touch dared to roll up to his elbow, then halfway up his biceps and back down. Weary hazel eyes raised to connect with sharp, wide green ones. 

"You know Warren is tanking. Everyone at this table knows. Would you rather lose yourself in daydreams or save our reputation with our next biggest client?" Cynthia realized a little too late she had made that move of touching Brian whenever she saw he wasn't focusing on the "now". He seemed to do that a lot lately. She bent her head low enough to look as if she wasn't secretly talking to her boss, but simply taking notes on her legal pad. 

"It's Warren's campaign. It's why I put him in charge. How else am I--?" 

"... but you're his _**boss** _ . This is _**your** _ company. _**Your** _ ass on the line." Cynthia coughed into her fist, then brought her hand over her mouth. She was hiding her lip movement. "Not to mention-- _this guy_ \--your new client dropped Vanguard to come here to _**you** _ , _specifically_ ." 

"Did it ever occur to you that I _like_ the threat of competition?" 

"Enough to _cause_ the threat of ending a ten million dollar contract?" 

"We haven't lost him yet." Brian took a moment to gaze across the table, reading facial expressions and body language. "He's still  **captive** to my charms and talents." 

Cynthia rolled her eyes, wondering if she should speak out or not. "Sounds like _someone_ we both know." 

"What?" Brian furrowed his brow in confusion. 

Cynthia almost turned to face Brian, but kept her body facing the table. "Have you always treated clients as if they're Michael?" 

"Excuse me?" Brian chuckled, mildly amused at Cynthia's attempt at insight. He noticed a few of his employees were getting antsy--even Ted's face looked a little pinched. Like he was seeing ten million dollars flying out the window the more Warren talked. 

"You haven't lost _him_ , either, Brian." 

"Where the hell did _that_ come from?! I wasn't talking about Michael." 

"Yeah. Okay." Cynthia calmly patted Brian's arm near hers. She leaned back in her chair, swinging closer to bang against Brian's arm rest. Her head was near his ear. "Then--what or who were you daydreaming about before I woke you up?" 

"Nothing--" Brian used the standardized reply to ward anybody off from pestering him about his private life. "--an' nobody." Unfortunately, Cynthia knew too much already. 

"Riiight. Fine." Cynthia doodled some sketches to make it appear as if she was taking notes on the meeting. She had stopped her shorthand about the same time Brian had drifted off. She couldn't let this conversation end or watch her moment vanish to make her feelings known. "Being married doesn't mean he's fallen out of love with you." 

Brian finally turned to face Cynthia as his eyes flashed frustration. "Will you quit already!" 

Cynthia didn't; she went on. "--because it's been very clear to me-- _and to most of your staff here in this room and those few paltry folks you call 'friends'_ \--you _miss_ him and you _haven't stopped_ loving him." 

"Cynthia..." Brian pinched the space between his dark eyebrows, feeling pain surfacing. 

"Sorry." Cynthia's hand touched Brian's thigh only for a second of time. She pushed herself into a full spin to right her stance in the chair. "Maybe I overstepped a boundary here, but--" 

Brian managed to smile at the employees who gave him fearful looks as he spun he and Cynthia's chairs around to face the wall. He bent low to speak to her. "No... uh, tell me this guy's first name--what's the main product of interest and tell me something about him no one else knows." 

Cynthia bit her bottom lip to keep from smirking. She knew with just a mention of Michael Brian could be motivated into anything. "Buck--percussion and drum gear--and he once shook Elvis Presley's hand through Graceland's front gate, when he was 12. It's what got him into the music business." 

"Thanks." Brian dug into his suit jacket, pulling out his Blackberry. "Do you mind--? This thing's been vibrating like crazy. Michael's has been trying to reach me for three days. Could you--?" 

"My pleasure." Cynthia stopped Brian from rising out of his chair, hand tight on his wrist. "Welcome back, _Boss_ ." 

Brian glared at her, then harrumphed. He made sure his tie was straight, clearing his throat as he began to speak during the long pause of silence. He got off his seat and strolled around the table. "Appreciate the effort, Warren." He clamped a comforting hand over Warren's shoulder joint. "--take an early lunch--" He re-buttoned his jacket and stood to face his new client, who had finally lifted his head, hiding a wide grin behind his beefy hand. "I think I got this covered." 

A collective breath of heavy sighs echoed around the table. Ted gulped, feeling his heart go back to beating correctly, dollar signs sparkling in his hesitant smile. 

~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~ 

**Response for MICHAEL :**

 

"Hullo? Anybody?" Brian peeked around the front door he was slowly opening. When he had called ahead, he had been informed that if no one answered he should just come in. He already knew where the spare key was on the front porch, but the door was unlocked when he rang the bell. "I'm here-- _**Lindsay?!** _ " He slammed the door shut behind him, taking off his jacket and hanging it off the stair's railing. " _**Melanie?!** _ _**Somebod--!?** _ " 

The creaking of the hall floor could be heard. " _**Be there in a minute, Brian!"** _ Lindsay's voice yelled down to him. " _**Just packing Gus' things! Could you round him up for me!? I think he's outside--playing!** _ ” Her voice was going in and out in the distance. 

Brian had his hand on the railing, tilting his head to glance up the stairs. "Round him up? What is he— _cattle_ ?" he spoke mostly to himself as he loosened his tie, beginning to roll his sleeves up to his elbows. Once he glanced upwards, he caught sight of a dark head peeking over the child-proof gate. Jenny Rebecca was curious to whom was visiting and bored by being kept from scooching down the stairs on her puffy diapered bottom. Brian played a little "peek-a-boo" game that caused the little girl to gurgle and giggle, grabbing the wooden slats like prison bars as she sunk to the hardwood floor waiting to be released. 

" _**Cowboy!** _ " Lindsay yelled back in response. 

" _Cowboy?_ " Brian had no idea what Lindsay was trying to say. 

" _**Or Indian--not sure! He should be out back--!** _ " 

"--okay--" Brian was already on his way past the foyer and into the kitchen to head toward the back door. 

" _**\--with Michael!** _ " 

Brian paused at the sound of the name. _Michael?_ He backtracked only a few steps to the foot of the stairs. " _**Michael's here?!** _ " 

Lindsay was passing down the hallway, picking up toys along the way. " _**Yeah--!** _ " She blew the long bangs out from her face as she stood at the top railing to stare down at Brian, no longer having to yell. "Mel and I will _finally_ get a weekend to ourselves. I'm packing J.R.'s things as well." 

"I'm leaving--so stop talking to me." Brian found his way to the backyard as quickly as possible. He started chuckling as he saw what sort of predicament Michael had gotten himself into. Michael was being _willingly_ roped and tied to one of the swing-set's metal post embedded in the soft ground. Brian cleared his throat, crossing his arms behind his back as he slowly approached his son. "--why, Deputy Gus..." He attached a soft southern drawl to his voice, clearly clearly seeing the "County Sheriff badge" on Gus' shirt. "--thank the good Lord you've done gone an' caught the murderin' fiend a'fore our whole herd disappear'd." Brian's eyes never left Michael's mode of dress, biting his lips to keep from snickering. 

" _Sheriff_ \--see." Correcting his father on his pretend title, Gus showed off his plastic badge that was, hooked onto his black pleather vest. He was circling Michael's form, who had been sent to his knees on the dirty ground. Gus stopped at one point, clasping Michael's shoulder. "This here is--" He lowered his mini-Stetson-ed head to speak into Michael's ear. "-- _what did you say your name was_ ?" 

"-- _uhm_ ... Dances-- _uh_ , Dances With Chickens." Michael muttered under his breath, looking away from Brian. 

" _Hehehe_ ..." Gus giggled, nodding his head as he tightened his fake knots at Michael's lower spine. "-- _chickens_ \--that's still funny." 

" _**Gus!** _ " Lindsay yelled from an open window on the second floor. " _**C'mon! Get inside and wash up! Get some clean clothes on! An' let Uncle Michael go!** _ " 

Father and son stared at one another. Gus sighed, shaking his head with disappointment. Brian crossed his arms low, over his stomach. "That your wife?" 

Gus couldn't help smiling, knowing his father was willing to keep up the silly, playful charade. "Dinner must be ready. She doesn't like me tieing up the Indians in the backyard." 

Michael couldn't help finding _that_ funny-- _neither could Brian_ . 

Brian rubbed at his chin. "They do tend to become time consumin'.” He motioned qwith his head toward the house. “You go on, Sheriff, I got this here heathen savage taken care of for you." 

Gus took off all his play clothes, handing everything to his father to replace him as "Sheriff". " _Be gentle._ " He latched onto his father's biceps. "She tried to _gut_ me with her knife." Gus pointed to a harmless plastic knife laying in the grass. "She's with child, but she's still dangerous." He nodded his head, passing the torch over to his father as he left to enter the house. 

Brian opened his mouth to say a few words as he watched Gus' rather hurried exit, in case he would get in trouble if he didn't move faster. 

" _Don't._ " Michael closed his eyes in humiliation. It figured that after days of not seeing Brian _**this** _ would be the moment they reconnect. "Speak an' I'll--" 

" _**HOW!** _ " Brian held up his two palms to show he meant no harm, everything dropped to the ground that was in his hands. Now he spoke in broken, sterotypical Native American tongue. "You are safe with me, Indian Princess--Dances With Chickens." He could barely get through that ridiculous name. 

" **Stop** \-- _laughing_ \--an'--" Michael was fighting against his ropes. He didn't like how they wouldn't loosen without someone else's help. Gus had promised he wouldn't tie the _real_ knots he had learned in Boy Scouts. 

" _**Wait!** _ I need to know--" Brian tried to keep a straight face, unable to let this slip on by to taunt Michael. "--is the baby your husband's or--were you knocked up by the Sheriff? I think he quite fancied you." 

Michael banged his head back on the metal post, desperately wanting to be free of the rope. "I didn't even _know_ I was _female_ , _let alone pregnant_ .” He shut his eyes and took a long swallow. “Gus is a creative child, quite intelligent. I'm finding out something new, like, every three minutes." In order to play with a child you often had to think quickly on your feet like one, because their imagination was endless. 

Brian neared Michael, who was still unable to move from his kneeling position on the ground. He flicked one of the hair pieces on Michael's shoulder. "I like the pig tails, Pippy Longstocking." 

Michael rolled his eyes, averting his head from Brian's touch. "Braids—they came with a ceremonial headband." He hung his head, looking down at the rope. _Wow_ ... he really couldn't move all that much. "I suppose if I'd've chosen the ceremonial Indian headdress, I'd be a Chief or a Medicine Man. And childless." He squinted, looking directly up at Brian. "Well..." 

Brian went back to crossing his arms over his chest. "Well-- _what_ ?" 

"Are you gonna help untie me or keep me  **captive** forever?" 

Oooooo, man... so tempting to choose the latter. 

Brian felt his heart clench tight. He was having an extremely difficult time answering that question without revealing the truth. 

**~*~the end...**

 

This short fic became centered around the much larger fanfic, **THE SECRET LIFE OF BRIAN KINNEY** . 

 


End file.
